Part VI: A comedy of arrers
“Someone get the little git!” “I’m trying! Don’t you think I’m trying?” “You’re not trying very well, are you?” “What do you mean?” “Look at you, you’ve stabbed yourself twice!” Trogdar looked down at his legs to see that he had indeed managed to cut himself open on both thighs. “Well it’s not easy when you’ve only got one leg to stand on,” he said in annoyance. “Besides, you should be able to get him, you’re short enough!” “Oh, out come the short jokes again, eh?” said Short-arse with a rising note of anger. “Didn’t seem to matter so much when I was saving your arse while you were messing about with that net, did it?” “I believe I had something to do with that,” said Jandyr, taking aim and missing the maniacal snotling. “Shut up, Elf,” snorted Short-arse in derision. “Are you just going to stand there?” she shouted to the Wizard, who was thoroughly engrossed with a patch of purple mould. “Hmmm?” said the Wizard, dreamily, “Oh, right.” Without turning his gaze from the wall, the Wizard reached behind him and pulled his crossbow into his right hand. Still not deigning to look, he fired 3 bolts around the greenskin, who leapt into the air in shock. Jandyr took the sudden opportunity to loose another arrow which flew through the handle of the lantern, pinning it to the wall. The diminutive snotling, sensing the end of the fun, ran off under a large wooden door near the swinging light. “Blimey,” said Trogdar, hobbling over to retrieve the lantern, “Did my eyes deceive me, or did the Wizard actually do something useful?” The Wizard turned from his musings, smiling and calmly reloading his crossbow. As he finished loading the last bolt, his face turned into a mask of horror as he wailed, “The Winds of magic have forsaken me!” “Typical…” muttered Trogdar as a sharp blast of cold air whistled beneath the door, blowing the lantern out. A few seconds of darkness followed as Trogdar drew his weapon and relit the lantern. As light returned to the dark stone corridor, Trogdar opened one of his tightly-screwed eyes to find… “Nothing?” said Trogdar aloud. The other Warriors were staring at a point between the Barbarian’s legs. “What!? WHAT!?” panicked Trogdar, looking down to see what was amiss. “Hello!” came a squeaky voice. Standing between Trogdar’s legs was a small Goblin, clad in a red and yellow jester’s costume and with a broad smile of yellow fangs. He shook a small Marotte which jingled and said, “I’m Gubbinz and I want to be your friend!” “Errr…” began Trogdar. Gubbinz shook the Marotte again in encouragement, his face still beaming with enthusiasm. “I’m afraid I’ve already got a few mates,” said Trogdar, indicating the other Warriors. Gubbinz turned round to look at the others, his face crestfallen. A chorus of denials came from the other Warriors as they pretended to busy themselves. “You’re mean!” said Gubbinz, stamping on the Barbarian’s injured foot and turning away huffily. “Little sh..!” began Trogdar hopping on one leg, before the jester turned and kicked him in his standing shin. “No swearing!” he said haughtily. “RAAAAAARGH!” Trogdar turned crimson with rage and swung for Gubbinz, who ran between his legs, tripping him as he went. “Should we help him?” asked Jandyr. “Nah,” said Short-arse, walking towards the door. “You’ll never get through there,” said Gubbinz, hopping from leg to leg in amusement. “And why not?” asked Short-arse grumpily. The jester reached into his tunic and pulled out a small silver key. “You little…!” said Short-arse, reaching out to grab the Goblin. Gubbinz jumped away quickly, hiding the key again and blowing a raspberry at the faltering Dwarf. From the darkness came a mechanical click and three crossbow bolts thundered into Gubbinz’ back. “Ow!” shrieked the jester, craning his neck to look at the damage. “Oh, woe is me!” he said theatrically, pirouetting on the spot and holding the back of his hand to his forehead, “I’m done for!” He fell forwards flat onto his face, the bolts sticking bolt upright out of his back like tree trunks bereft of foliage. His legs twitched spasmodically for a while, before he became still. The Warriors watched the jester’s act in silence before the Dwarf approached his body cautiously. Gubbinz twitched once more as she drew near. “What on earth was that about?” asked Short-arse, reaching down to retrieve the key. Suddenly, there was a loud whistle from the Goblin, and a ferocious rumble came from near the Wizard. “Get ‘im, Growler!”